Visible
by Sinnocencex
Summary: Hiding. Running. They are useless and now that the 99th Hunger Games has approached, the Districts enter another state of unrest under the oppressive rule of President Snow. Another girl, another death sentence? Maybe not, because for Robyn Albourne she has all the reason to survive. Yes, survival is key, but is losing herself in the process worth the struggle? (First FanFic)
1. Chapter I

Sunlight barely pierces through the blinds in my room, before Shrieker cackles out. Oh that rooster; how I hate that blasted bird. This happened everyday. It's how my day starts every single time. He was my very own personal alarm clock and he's just a rooster, but sometimes, I think he knows it bothers me. Call me crazy like the others, but I feel like he makes it his personal goal to give me a rude awakening. If it wasn't for Ma's love of that bird, I would've killed, cooked, and ate him by now.

Rolling out of bed, my eyes barely open, I search for my boots. When I get ahold of them I put them on. No shower for me this morning. I would milk the cows first, then go to bathhouse and clean myself. My nightdress would have to act as my work clothes too. I'm just too lazy to change. Too tired.

With every loud step, I walk down the hallway to the front door, using the noise as a way to let everyone know it's almost time for school or work. The creaking floorboards help me.

Before I go to the barn I wake up Rufus. He's our dog and act's as a farmhand as well. Rufus yawns and stretches, then runs out the door to the sheep stead. He would let them out for them to graze, and then later I would herd them back into the stead. When it was noon Rufus would let them out again. I tried training him to herd them himself, to take some work off my load, but he never got it. It was a waste a time, trying to train him but his ability to let them out was good enough. I put some stale goose meat in his dish and a bone for when he returns.

I step outside and breathe in the morning air. It's enough for me to shake off some of my weariness. Trudging to the barn, I look out to the east of our farm and see the sheep grazing. Rufus worked fast.

Grabbing the metal pails from side of the barn, I enter and sigh. The cow's turn to me and give me looks of distaste. Their "moos," basically telling me to "go away." Too bad, it was milking day, they would have to deal with it. The process is easy. I've essentially mastered milking the cows, but it always takes a long time and after about an hour my hands feel sore. Then, sadly, this was only the beginning of my chores. After completing all my chores for day my entire body would be sore and pleading for rest.

This is how it is for me in District 10. A working life. I've been working on this farm since I was 10 and it never gets easier, even as I get older. I'm 16 now, and sure I got stronger and learned to endure but it never gets easier. I was the oldest of nine children. From the moment I was born my life was going be a difficult one. The oldest child always has it the hardest. Stir in the fact that my family owned one of the largest farms in District 10 and it gets even harder. We've had the farm for so long there are pictures of my Ma's ma on the walls in the den. Sometimes I think we've had it even before the Dark Days. It's not absurd to think it possibly survived the first rebellion, especially after it managed to survive the second one twenty-four years ago.

The farm itself oozes history. Different generations have lived in the house and worked in the fields. The girls in the family would inherit the farm and usually their husbands would join them here.

"We work on this farm until we turn into the soil ourselves," Ma used to tell me. I only understood what she meant when I turned 13 and I saw some of the grave plots of my ancestors, mostly female, in the North side of the farm, by the chicken coops, while collecting eggs for the first time. I have nightmares of being buried there. A lackluster tombstone that's engraved "Robyn Olivia Hunder Albourne," next to my mothers. Scariest part is if history would choose to repeat itself, it was going to happen.

I finish milking the cows, now having four filled pails of the white liquid. I carry them carefully back to the house and when I enter I hear a soft "good morning." I put the pails down and look up at my dad. He's already dressed in overalls and boots ready for today's work. A cap hiding his salt-n-pepper hair. Grey hairs are in his beard. He's only 43 but he looks so much older. His grey eyes don't help either. This farm would make you look older; have you age faster almost.

"Morning," I say.

"Cows treat you nice?" He asks, smiling lightly.

"As nice as they usually are," I answer. He asks this everyday. Our conversations were usually dull. My father and I didn't exactly have the best relationship. It wasn't because of any personal animosities or problems we had with each other but probably because we were always so busy that we didn't get much time to spend with each other. I think we're pretty similar actually. We both like to keep to ourselves and I we aren't very talkative in general. We're the silent type, that's all.

"We're going to be busy for the next few days," He tells me.

"Yeah I know, it's always busier during this time of year," I mutter.

My dad shifts uneasily and I curse myself for saying that last part. It was the last thing I should've mentioned.

"So . . . how are you doing?" He goes on. I can hear the anxiety in his voice already.

"Fine Dad, I'm not worried," I try to answer as confidently as I can. It seems to relax him some. He was already stressed with all his farm work. The last thing he needed was to know his daughter was worried about the Hunger Games. Which I wasn't. It was a week away anyway.

"Okay," He sighs. "I had breakfast already so I'm going out to the fields. I'll see you at supper."

"Yea."

"I . . . I love you."

"Love you too Dad."

He leaves through the front door and I exhale softly. I felt sorry for him most of the time. Easton Hunder had married this farm when he married my mother, Claire Albourne. He used to work as a butcher's assistant until he got married and moved into this house. Over the years I guess he got used to doing farm work and eventually began to manage it. Even without the help of his wife.

My mother had left my family about three months ago. She's left us a countless number of times. Whether it was for a few days, a few weeks, or a few months, like now. She would run off to who knows where. Then she would return randomly and every time she did it was like she and my dad would get back together enough to have another child. Then she would run off again, and leave Ma to take care of the baby with my dad. My dad loves my mom unconditionally, and tried to hide her secrets from us kids for a long time; maybe fearing we wouldn't be able to handle it. But I found out after about the fifth time she left. The others don't know, at least I don't think they do. All they know is mother is sick and can't be with them right now.

The truth is my mother has an addiction to morphling. I can't say where she developed the addiction or how, but it's bad enough for her to leave us constantly. Her children barely know her. Violet doesn't even know what she looks like. I have a hard time remembering myself but Ma tells me she looked like me. Claiming that we have the same features. Dark blonde hair, the same nose, same lips, same ears, cheekbones, and shy smile. We shared it all. The only difference is we have different eye color. My eyes are grey, like my father's, and my mothers are a dark ocean blue. I'm happy for the difference. I want to be nothing like her.

"Robyn," I hear my sister, Violet cry out. It seems like ever since she learned how to say my name she would scream it whenever she needed me or wanted something.

"Yes," I cry back.

"I'm hungry."

"I'll make breakfast soon. Go back to sleep for now."

I hear no response and assume she's trying to fall asleep again. Soon the others would be up as well. My day just got harder. I didn't want to cook breakfast today but with Ma still sleeping it looked like I would have to . . . again.

I have eight siblings. In order of age it goes Colton, Eli, Kayden, Nicnic, Easton Jr., Grace, James, and Violet. Colton is 15. Eli is thirteen, Kayden is 12, Nicnic is 10, Easton Jr. is 8, Grace and James, who are twins, are 6 and lastly, Violet is 3.

Each of them has their own unique personality and each of them get on my nerves. You would think the boys would run the house, having us girls outnumbered 6 to 3 not including Ma and my dad but I'm in charge. Being the oldest of the children, along with having the most chores, I have seniority. With my mother being away as well, I've unintentionally become some sort of mother figure to some of them too, even though I'm not the oldest girl in the house. Another responsibility I suppose.

Speaking of responsibilities it was time to check on Colton. I quietly make my way to his room and open the door slowly, peaking in on him. It's no surprise to see him awake, sitting up on his bed, "looking" out the window. His salt-n-pepper hair is a mess.

"Morning Colton," I say softly.

"Hi Robyn," He says back, not shifting, the sunlight keeping him still. This was almost like a ritual he had every morning. He would wake up and stare at the sun through the small circular window in his room. It would never hurt his eyes so I never tell him to stop. Colton is blind. He has a problem with his eyes that doctors, at least the ones here, couldn't fix because they couldn't figure out what caused it. They simply had no explanation for it. All they could say was he would be like this forever. He would never see unless we happened to have a miracle in our pockets. I used to feel bad for him, thinking he'd never be able to experience the world like everyone else did. But over the years my feelings changed as I watched him grow. He was unique and handled everything with such delicacy and care. He can't see, so he feels; understanding and learning things in his own way. Every once in a while he would ask to touch or feel my face and I would let him. His soft hands would feel every inch of my face and I'll admit it was a little weird the first few times but the weirdness went away every time he would tell me that I'm beautiful when he was finished. After awhile I began to envy how he handled himself and how positive he was. Colton was never panicked, or angry, or sad. His usually moods were either mellow, happy, or carefree. Then he also has this sense for adventure that can't be matched by any of us. I would find him in the fields on occasion and he would say, ever so innocently, "I'm not lost, just not where I thought I would be." His spirit was something to truly marvel. I know it's not good to choose favorites but out of my brothers and sisters, Colton was my favorite. He's the least annoying out of them all.

"Breakfast is in a few," I say to him.

"Okay, I'll come out when I smell it," He answers. I shut the door behind me and go back to the kitchen.

For the next few I minutes I pour milk in containers that would be sent out to the Capitol. The rest of the milk I put in a jug, which would be for us to drink. If I was lucky it would last the day. I wash out the metal pails and put them outside to air dry. Next I go to the icebox and take out a dozen eggs. Today's breakfast would be eggs and left over chicken, with milk to drink. There was enough gasoline in the stove to cook the eggs thoroughly so I decide to make omelets.

It takes awhile but the finish products look excellent. Nine plates of omelets and chicken set on the table. I don't make myself a plate because I'm not feeling hungry and I rather take a shower. I smelled like food and sweat, which wasn't the greatest combination.

"Breakfast!" I yell. After a few seconds I begin to hear the pitter-patter of feet moving, then doors opening. I leave before I see all of them. As I exit through the back door to go to the bathhouse, right before I close the door behind me, I hear Grace scream out "omelets!" It slipped my mind that they were her favorite. Or maybe it didn't. Maybe my subconscious had me cook it especially for her because it could be the last time I do.

— —

The water is lukewarm today, better than it was the past few days. As is runs down my body, I finally begin to feel at ease. This was always my favorite part of the day. I realize my hair is still tied up with a ribbon and decide to let it out. It was a couple of days since I last washed it and I needed to get rid of the egg smell. I pull at the ribbon and instantly my hair falls down. The back is easily long enough to reach the middle of my back and the front enough to cover my breasts. Is it strange to hate that my hair is long? Ma and my sisters argue it is. They think it's beautiful but I prefer to tie it up and make it look short. I always liked how it looked short. It was different. Nothing like my mothers.

Maybe that's why I hated it. It made me look even more like my mother.

I adjust the showerhead so that the water is raining down on the top of my head. Then I use a cloth and the small bar of soap to scrub my hair, while monitoring the soap so that I don't use too much of it. It was one of the more expensive necessities. In town it would take a trade of three dozen eggs or two healthy chickens to get a bar of soap, and that was on a good day.

When I'm satisfied with my hair, I turn off the water and grab my towel, quickly wrapping it around my body. I prefer to let my hair air dry then to be naked. Trying to dry my hair manually would take plenty of time and with the chores I had to complete today, I have none to waste with my pesky hair. As I walk back to my room I begin to think about all the things I would have to do today.

My to-do list was especially long because of the Hunger Games. District 10 was always asked to produce more around this time. Capitol people seemed to get a larger appetite whenever the Games came around and it only made my chores harder.

Herd the sheep, let the cows graze, then herd them, feed the chickens, collect their eggs to take to the Square to trade and sell, pick vegetables that would be sent to the Capitol, find something for the pigs to eat and fix their barn, go to Square and actually sell the eggs, walk back home, cook dinner, then clean my younger siblings before bed.

I grab my work shirt and shorts from the rack and sigh. The ease that my shower gave me is gone. It definitely wasn't going to be an easy day, but then again; it never is.


	2. Chapter II

The Square is located at the outer most part of District 10 and very far away from my families farm. It's home to many businesses and many people. You can trade or buy just about anything here, almost like a shopping district. Find the right people, know your price, find out theirs, know how to negotiate and you'd get by. I've been trading at the Square for almost seven years now, starting shortly after my tenth birthday, and I know the game and how to play it. See the people in District 10 are very simple, or at least to me they are. We all have the same needs; you'll always have something someone else wants and vice versa.

For example today when Lucy from the butchers asked me for a dozen eggs in exchange for a pound of chicken meat, I laughed. It's a complicated system really, but a dozen eggs could get me about ten pounds of chicken meat and a loaf of bread. We negotiated, as usually I lead, and I managed to get three pounds of chicken meat for three eggs. I threw in a small container of milk just because Lucy has a baby at home. Which is pretty generous around these parts, especially if you're doing business.

Now when I went to the baker, things worked out a little differently. I needed three loafs of bread. Actually two but with the Hunger Games coming up, it wouldn't hurt to have an extra. Bread is in a kind of a high demand right now, I have no idea why but it jacked up the prices. I ended up trading five bottles of milk for three and a half loafs of bread. A rip off, I know, but the baker has a second client for milk which makes bargaining difficult. I'll get him next time though. Robyn Albourne doesn't get duped twice.

Anyway, as you can see, theres a system to the Square. Whenever you were here you wanted to either get the better bargain or have a square deal at the least. Ma says this is where it gets its name.

Most of the people who work or come to the Square are usually looking to make a deal, sell, or buy goods as I said before. However, according to Ma and my father, the Square has changed since the second rebellion. An increased number of Peacekeepers have been tasked to keep the Square under control. To me the amount of Peacekeepers has been the same but I wasn't around before the second rebellion. You would see maybe seven of them in the Square today, while Ma said there used to be no more than two at a time. It may be because of the Capitol laws that were put in effect after the rebellion. It could also be because the Square was also home to a good amount of people. Some of them who were rebels that fought in the Mockingjay uprising. I won't lie, I know a few rebels who live here myself but I would never give them in, even for the reward that the Capitol gave. "A month of grain and oil for each member of the household of a person who turns in a Mockingjay rebel." It was even more if you turned in a high ranking officer but here in the Square, and District 10 in general, we would never turn in a rebel. If we saw one, we saw them with blind eyes. We stand neutral even now. Truth is they are just like us now. Scraping by, just trying to live each day. They may have it a little harder though. Avoiding Peacekeepers wasn't very easy especially if you weren't familiar with the area and if they caught you … good luck.

I remember when an unlucky girl from District 8 was caught. It wasn't too long ago, maybe six months, maybe a little more, when she was dragged through the streets by her hair by the Head Peacekeeper. She was screaming, crying, begging for help and mercy. It never came though. She was tied to a post in the middle of the Square, stripped of all her clothes, then violently beaten. It was painful just to watch. The Peacekeeper left her there, naked, tied to the post, bleeding to death. Publicly humiliated at that. At first no one went near her, no one dared to get close, probably because of fear that they would be next. Slowly though, with the first action being an older woman giving her a drink of water, people tried to do what they could. It was obvious she would die, she was losing too much blood, but they did what they could to make sure she didn't suffer anymore. All I could think was "what did she do to deserve this?" I didn't stay to watch her die. It wasn't something I wanted to see.

Still, I see her in the faces of the people I know who aren't from District 10. I know that if caught, they could face the same consequences like she did of their caught. I wonder if they worry about being caught one day. It would definitely worry me.

As I leave the Square, with all of the goods I got today in a basket underneath my arm, my thoughts wander. From thinking about my siblings, to what I'm going to cook, to the Reaping.

I'm picturing the giant pink ball when a voice snaps me out of the image and back to reality. A voice I'm not too excited to hear either.

"Robyn!" I look to my left and see Korran, a strand of wheat hanging lazily from his mouth. He's grinning from ear to ear and I immediately feel the bile begin to rise from my stomach.

"What do you want?" I look away from him now, hoping that it would ease the nausea or at least the annoyance that his face brought to me every time I saw him.

"Nothing in particular, it's just wonderful to be in the presence of the wonderful Robyn is all."

His voice is patronizing and annoying. If it wasn't for the fact that I pitied him, I wouldn't even speak to Korran. He's not from District 10, at least not originally. His complexion is too pale and theres not a single person in District 10 with green eyes like his. With those two attributes along with a few other things, I knew he wasn't from here. So when he told me he was from District 13 I wasn't too surprised. He and his mother had escaped from District 13 when the rebellion was almost over and made it here to District 10 when he was still young. His mother had been captured and taken to the Capitol shortly after but made sure he was hidden away before. Korran didn't explain anymore after that but it was easy enough based on talking to him and other people like him to know what his life was like. Being a orphan and the son of a rebel, one that he claimed was important, couldn't be easy. Sometimes I would see him around the Square, trying to find something to eat. Most of the time stealing to get it.

"I'm not in the mood today Korran."

"You're never in the mood dearest."

"Don't call me that."

He runs after me and bumps me a little. I look down instinctively and not to much surprise, a bottle of milk is missing from my basket and is now in his possession. I look up at his almost unbearable conniving face, pissed off at him and snatch it back. His smile gets wider.

"Korran!"

"Pretty please, you don't need that one bottle of milk!"

"Who says I don't? A low life like you with no brains?"

"It's obvious beautiful."

I clench my fist in preparation of his next few words, already knowing exactly what he would say. He's said it before. I mean over and over again. Almost every time I saw him he would say it.

"A _full-breasted robin_, like you —"

Before he can finish his sentence, my fist hits his jaw, hard, and he falls to the ground, covering his perverted mouth.

"I said not to call me that you deviant!"

When he gets back to his feet, and drops his hand from his mouth, I'm disappointed to see he's still smiling even with blood smeared on his teeth now.

"But they're so big you could —"

My fist connects with his jaw again and he falls back to the ground, spitting blood this time, his lip bleeding. His smile returns and I curse. It may be pity or the fact that I know he'll pester me later and he wouldn't stop till he got it but I toss him the half loaf of bread I got from the baker and make my way back to the farm undisturbed.

At the door I'm greeted by Ma, who's sweeping the front porch. Cleaning was usually what she did. It took some weight off my shoulders and it keeps her active. Ma didn't like to sit down unless she was telling the children a story. She was always on her feet unless she was asleep. I hope when I'm her age I have her will to keep going, to keep moving, even after years of restless work.

"How'd they treat you?" She asks, taking to the basket from me to inspect my spoils.

"Fine, the baker stiffed me though."

"You win some and you lose some."

"I'll get him next time though, as soon as the Games are over."

"Now that's how an Albourne thinks!"

She hands me back the basket and picks back up the broom. The porch looks absolutely spotless to me but Ma always thinks things can be a little cleaner.

"I'm going inside to start dinner."

"Of course dear, when I'm finish here, I'll set the table."

Stepping inside, I'm not surprised to hear the obnoxiously loud sounds of "play." My siblings, all except for maybe Colton, were nothing like my father or I. The quiet nature my father, oldest brother, and I tend to have, has stopped with us. The others are noisy, loud, and off the charts troublesome.

Grace comes running into the kitchen, almost knocking me over, doing a combination of screaming and crying, whether it's positive or negative, I have no clue. Soon behind her comes Nicnic holding what looks like a frog and he has a devious grin on his face. So the screaming is negative. He's almost past me when I trip him and he falls flat on his face, dropping the frog. He rolls over, dazed, whining, and looks at me for an answer. I give him a simple stern look that says "stop it!"

"_Robyn_," He cries and I see the tears forming in his eyes. Okay, maybe he fell a little harder than I would've liked but he had it coming. Grace is afraid of everything that moves, he should know better than to be messing with her like that.

"Get up and tell everyone to get ready for dinner," I say.

"Okay," He sobs, standing up and holding the side of his face.

"Do you know where dad is?"

"He said he was going to the Justice Building and not to wait up."

"Why was he going there?"

"Didn't say," He shrugs, then runs off to tell the others to wash up for supper.

I didn't like this. There's nothing I think of that my father could be going to the Justice Building for. At least nothing good. The last time I went to the Justice Building it wasn't good. Actually I don't think anything good comes from the Justice Building. Not even tesserae.

— —

"Dinner!" I call out, finally finished preparing the last meal of the day. Chicken, bread, mashed potatoes, and carrots would be tonights feast. Ma has already finished setting the table and it isn't long before the children round the table, all washed up, ready to eat. My father takes his place at the head of the table, back from the Justice Building. I still don't know why he went. When he returned, I mentioned it but he gave me a cold shoulder. As I thought, it wasn't something good.

We all sit and Ma starts dishing for the youngest children. I waste no time filling my plate, absolutely ravenous. Skipping breakfast was really a bad idea, especially because of the day I had.

"You're awfully hungry," Eli utters.

"Yes, I haven't eaten almost all day," I say to the inquisitive teen.

"Robyn has to eat a whole lot so she can feed her baby birds," Violet jokes. Ma has read to her a book on birds and their behavior. Apparently there was a part on robins and feeding hatchlings. She's been mentioning it ever since.

"I don't have any baby birds Violet, you do know I'm not an actual bird right?"

She smiles and takes a bite of her potatoes. Seriously I think she might actually think I'm a bird.

"You will have baby birds one day though," Ma chimes in, winking at me.

"I don't know about that," I wince. The idea of having my own "baby birds" didn't really interest me. Having to take care of seven younger brothers and sisters wiped those thoughts away before they even formed.

"Give it some time," Ma persists. "One of Mr. Hoover's boys is about your age, maybe a little older."

The idea of marrying a Hoover boy almost makes me spit back out my carrots. I can do _way_ better than a Hoover. Just the thought of marrying one of them makes me want to push away my plate. Seriously, I rather marry Korran than a Hoover. He may be an orphan but at least his teeth weren't crooked.

"She's still a little young to be thinking about … _that_," My dad speaks up, thankfully.

"Not too young Easton," Ma continues, obviously enjoying the topic,"she's seventeen now. This was the time to start lining out your prospects in my day."

"It's been a long time since your time Ma," I say.

"Maybe, but you're developing into a beautiful young lady Robyn and it's only a matter of time before suitors come knocking."

"And when they do," I raise my knife in the air, "I'll tell them to go away."

"That's if they reach that far," My dad says. "They'll have to ask me for my permission first before they even get near you."

"You better stay out of this girls affairs Easton, I want to see great grandchildren before I close my eyes for the last time and I refuse to let you stand in the way of it," Ma declares.

"Can we please change the topic?" I ask, almost begging really.

"I think Robyn would make an excellent mother," Colton pipes in now. Great.

"Yes, Robyn will feed all her baby birds!" Violent screams. Okay, I think she really believes I'm a bird.

"Robyn's too mean to be a good mother," Nicnic says. "She tripped me for no reason today."

"You were chasing Grace with a frog in your hands, you had it coming," I tell him.

"Yeah, you're mean Nicnic!" Grace agrees.

"Maybe but mom would never trip me like you did!"

"Please how would you know? She's never around," I respond before I can stop myself or think about what I'm saying. The cold silence and sad faces is my punishment. I can't even look at my dad. The last bits of food on my plate don't look appetizing anymore. More than that I can't stand the silence. I excuse myself from the table after a few minutes, put my plate in the sink and then proceed to my room to loathe at my stupid, completely unadvised comment.

Sure, in reality I meant every word but I know better than to say it out loud in front of my family. They didn't need to hear that, even though some of them may be thinking it. This is why I preferred to be silent and alone. When you're quiet you can never say the wrong thing. Never make a mistake. You go unnoticed and I like that.

But at the same time, I hate it. At the same time, I know that I'm distancing myself from people and slowly becoming an introvert or wallflower. My family is all I have and distancing myself from them doesn't have any positives.

If you want proof … well just ask my mother, that is, if you can find her.


	3. Chapter III

Funny how quickly a week can go by. In the blink of an eye the Reaping for the 99th Annual Hunger Games has approached. I've been trying to keep it out of my thoughts for most of the week but from late last night to now in the early morning it's all I've thought about it. My siblings are worried too. It explains why almost all of them are jammed into my bed, every few minutes kicking for space. I don't mind though. It's nice to be here with them. To cuddle with Violet and stroke her hair for what could be the last time. To listen to James and Nicnic lightly snoring in an almost comedic unison. Even hearing that bloody rooster cackle is bearable today.

It's all a little comforting but still, I can't help but think of that big what if. What if my name is taken out of that irritatingly pink reaping ball. I'm not sure what I'll do. Run? Not likely as Peacekeepers would be ready to pull me onstage. Running is never an option.

For the sake of my siblings, my father, and Ma, I would have to keep from worrying, even if it was just an act. It wasn't just me who could be cursed into the Hunger Games either. Eli, Kayden, and even Colton were eligible. I wonder if it worried them. Colton is lucky to never have seen a Hunger Games but I'm sure he still has an idea about it. He's too smart not to know. Eli was still acting like his inquisitive, smart aleck self, so I don't think it's bothering him too much. At least if it is, he's not showing any visible signs. Maybe he could teach me how. Kayden on the other hand was pretty quiet yesterday. I can almost guarantee he's worried. It's his first year of eligibility and I remember my first year. Finding sleep the night before was impossible. At least he didn't take tesserae, so his odds of selection are way lower than Eli and mine. His name would be on only one slip of paper.

Violet shifts and I let her go, kissing her lightly on the cheek before. I carefully make my way out of my sibling packed bed, making sure not to wake any of them. Leaving the room without making a sound, I walk to the kitchen and I'm pleasantly surprised to smell food. Ma has taken the liberty to make the household breakfast this morning.

"Good morning Robyn," She says, at the same time pouring more batter into a frying pan. Ma making pancakes was something rare.

"Good morning Ma, how are you?" I ask, stepping closer to her to see exactly how she cooks them. This is how I learned to cook most things I do now.

"Fine dear, although I think I should be asking you."

"I'll be fine, if I treat it like another day it'll be easier to get through."

"That's a nice way to think, share it with your brothers. Maybe they'll rest a little easier."

"Do you need any help?"

"Oh no dear, you make breakfast for this family every day, I think I can handle this one."

"Okay."

"You know before you came around, I used to run this house all by myself."

"Well that couldn't be easy," I say with a smile. Thinking of doing every single chore this farm has, seems impossible for just one person.

"Yes Robyn it wasn't, but nothing in this life is ever easy. We face challenges everyday and it's our job to overcome them. When you do, you're going to come out stronger than you were before."

"I'd prefer to have everything come easy, it works for the Capitol and their people," I disagree.

"It looks that way from our perspective but you never know what it's like from theirs."

"How they're living, I think I can get a very close picture."

"If that's how you see it," Ma says, flipping a pancake out of a pan and onto a plate. "Anyway, go wash up, you have a long day ahead of you."

"I always do."

— —

The bathe water is cold today. I don't spend too long in the shower because the others will be right after me. If I could, I would just spend the entire day in here though. Wallowing in cold water beat going to a reaping for the Hunger Games any day of the week.

When I get back to my room, a dress is already laid out on my now sibling less bed. Ma must've picked it out and I recognize it because it's one of my mothers old ones. Having her hand me downs was always a bother to me but this dress was an exception. Its a light blue dress with white polk-a-dots and small buttons lining the back. Typically not my "style" but strangely I like it. It's different.

I've almost got it on when I hear a light knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I ask.

"It's Grace, can I come in please?"

I ponder it for a second, then open the door letting her in, quickly locking the door back after. Not wanting anymore interruptions.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"Getting ready."

"Is today the day when everyone stands next to each other?"

"Yes."

"Oh." The look on her face is crushing. I'm sure Grace doesn't know the exact details of the Reaping or the Hunger Games for that matter but she has an idea. She knows when "everyone stands next to each other" it's not good. For a six year old that was enough.

"Do you want to help me get dressed?" I ask trying to cheer her up. She always wants to help me, no matter what I was doing unless it involved animals.

She nods eagerly, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Here," I say picking her up then putting her to stand up on my bed. "Help me with the buttons."

I watch her from the mirror, carefully trying to hook the buttons. She messes up a few times but after a about a minute she clips them all together. I look at myself and feel satisfied. The dress fit almost too perfectly, like it was made for my exact shape.

"You look beautiful," Grace whispers. Her expression from before has returned.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you."

"No!" She frowns. "You're prettier, you look just like mommy."

I bite my lip. She meant it as a compliment but still.

"You really think so?"

"Yes!"

"Well to me you look just like mom."

The little surprised look she has is cute.

"No, you're just saying that," She denies, but based on her new expression I know I've got her.

"No, really" I go on. "Come down and I'll show you."

She steps down off the bed and I lead her in front of me, so that she's facing the mirror. Next I stoop down behind her so we're the same level.

"Now what do you see?" I ask her.

"Myself." She answers, a bit confused.

"Look at your nose, isn't it just like moms?"

"Yes."

"And look at your skin. Isn't it the same colors as moms?"

"Yeah."

"Now look at your eyes. What color are they?"

"Blue."

"Just like mom's right?"

"Yes."

"So, don't you look just like mom does?"

"Yes—," She starts off, "— but my hair is dark and short. Your hair is just like mommy's and long."

"Grace," I say gently, feeling like this is the hundredth time I've said these words to her. "You're only six years old. Your hair is going to grow long when you're a little older. And you know what?"

"What?"

"My hair was shorter than yours when I was your age," I lie. "Then I grew up and now it's long."

"But—"

"But what?"

"Your hair is the same color as mommy's."

"Yet yours is just as beautiful if not more."

She's quiet for awhile, then she turns to me. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

She's quiet again.

"Robyn?"

"Yes Grace."

"When is mommy coming back?"

"I—"

Between the look in her eyes and the feeling I have in my chest, I just can't tell her the truth as much as I hate lying to her. Twice.

"—Soon Grace, soon."

— —

Breakfast is quiet but I let the reason why be because the pancakes Ma made are delicious. The alternative is harder to deal with. In actuality the pancakes really are delicious, especially with the maple syrup and strawberry jam my dad brought in. Soft and sweet, the textures, the flavors, they are all very tasty. It takes a look of worry from Eli to stop me from gorging myself anymore.

When we're all finish, my dad looks at me, then my brothers who are going to the Reaping.

"Are you all ready?" He asks.

The question is interesting in that it could be interpreted in many ways. Yet each way the answer is always no. How is someone ever ready to go to a reaping? No matter who you are, there is nothing that can prepare you for the Hunger Games. Whether you're a Career tribute from District 1 or a child from District 12, you'll never be ready. The reaping always seemed like a warmup for the games, which I guess it is. But even the warmup isn't something you can prepare for. It was completely random. At least the ending was always the same. Twenty-three would die. One would live and be crowned "victor."

—- —-

Walking to the Justice Building, the mood is the same like it was at the breakfast table. Nothing but silence. I make more than awkward eye contact, every few seconds, with other children who are going. Some people I haven't seen since I was in school. I didn't have many friends but it's still nice to see how some of my peers have grown, although I do wish it were under better circumstances.

— —

The Peacekeeper pricks my finger, stamps the paper with my blood, and tells me to stand in the second row. Last year I thought I was close to the podium but this year it's worse. Being that my last name begins with an A, I was always in front on the line in my age group. It was a curse and not just for me either. Colton, Eli, and Kayden are all likely to be standing in the same spot I am, in their respective age groups. I would much rather be in the back or simply out of sight for the camera's. The "extravaganza" that is the reaping for the Hunger Games, has brought out more cameras than I want to count. There are even more Peacekeepers. Over the past few years they've taken the reaping as an opportunity to not only measure the population, but to also find rebels living in the District's and their children. They would have to hide somewhere and in District 10 it had to be someplace other than the Square. The Peacekeepers would check there first. As much as I find him annoying, I hope Korran avoids getting captured. He's a nuisance but he doesn't deserve that. No one does.

— —

Iris Amos, one of my very few friends from school takes her place next to me as the Reaping is about to begin. Sometimes I think the only reason we're friends is because we've always had to stand or sit next to each other in school or now. Not the best way to form a friendship but you can't say it wasn't unique. She brushes the seams of her dress, which is blue like mine except it has stripes. We exchange small smiles as a greeting. Talking was now out of the question and we both understood that. Iris mouths something that I interpret as "you look pretty." I respond similarly mouthing back "I love your dress." This is the first "conversation" we've had for months.

— —

Mayor Suill steps onto the stage. The screens turn on, the lights turn on and the Reaping is underway. Here we go.

"Good morning District 10 and good morning to all the citizens of our great nation of Panem watching at home!" Mayor Suill's voice is booming through the microphone. I've always hated how loud they were. There was no need. You could whisper and everyone would hear you. It's that silent.

"Welcome to the 99th annual Hunger Games! I know you all, as am I, are all excited for the spectacular event that is only a few days away! One lucky girl and boy from here in our very own District 10 will be chosen to represent us in the Hunger Games and hopefully be crowned victor! But first, before we select that lucky boy and lucky girl, it's time for the honorary reciting of the Treaty of Treason and the Mockingjay Manifest."

On the screens the video plays, showing dark and graphic images of the Dark Days, then the first rebellion, then the Mockingjay Uprising. An audio recording of the Treaty of Treason being read by President Snow plays too. When that's over Mayor Suill reads the Mockingjay Manifest and an image of Katniss Everdeen is shown on the monitors, followed promptly by a video of her public execution in the Presidents mansion in the Capitol. This part has always made me sick. The way her neck abruptly snaps in the final moment is what really makes me shudder. It's something you can never get use to seeing. No matter how many times it plays. Why would they even have something like that televised?

"Now with the reciting completed, I would like to turn the microphone over to the District 10 escort Mary Heartgold!"

Mayor Suill steps back. From behind him comes the short mess of a woman, covered in yellow feathers, a pink tail, and bright pink lip stick, that is Mary Heartgold.

"Hello District 10," She hollers into the mic. "How are we all feeling today?"

In unison all the children, as we were trained to in school everyday to, say, "Honored that we may have the opportunity to participate in the Hunger Games for the Capitol and President Snow!"

"Very well then," Mary continues, smiling eagerly. I notice the whiskers on her face now. "You all will be surprised to know the selection process has changed. The Capitol has decided to unveil a new system for choosing a tribute this year, as a sort of trial run for next years Quarter Quell that I'm sure we are all looking forward to as much, if not more, than this years Hunger Games!"

I haven't been paying very close attention or I would've noticed that the pink and blue reaping balls that usually stood next to each other weren't on the podium. Instead there is one pink lever and one blue lever on the podium. This was really new. When Mary explains the "new system," I make sure I'm all ears because it might not be the last time I'm seeing it.

"How it'll work is, I will pull on the levers you see here. The pink for girls and the blue, obviously, for boys. All of your beautiful names are already registered into a computer program, as many times as they should be, and the computer will randomly select one. Very high-tech and innovative don't you think?"

Murmurs and whispers erupt in the crowd. Even Iris and I exchange confused glances at each other.

"Well I can tell you all are very excited to see the new amazing reaping system in action, so why don't we begin then hmmm? Ladies first as always! Oh and may the odds now and forever be in your glorious favor!"

Mary steps over to the pink lever and the lights dim for dramatic effect. She grabs ahold of the pink lever.

"How about a little count down, to make things a little sexier? Here goes! One … Two … Three!"

She pulls the level then instantly on the screens, before I can even realize that Mary doesn't know what a count _down_ is, hundreds of names begin to flutter by that are unreadable because of the speed. A ticking nose, like a clock, comes out of the speakers as the names go by.

It begins to slow down . . . a little more readable … tick tick tick tick . . . a little more … tick tick tick . . . even slower . . . tick tick . . . it's almost stopped . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . . stopped.

I read the name of the next unlucky soul that would be in the Hunger Games at the same time Mary Heartgold says it into the microphone.

"Robyn Albourne."

That's funny, isn't that my name? I look at Iris again but she isn't laughing. She looks worried.

No one is laughing.

It's quiet like before.

Silent.

— —

Two Peacekeepers grab me by each arm and pull me onto the podium.

They aren't laughing.

I'm standing next to Mary Heartgold now, the escort of District 10. She's smiling at me. At least she thinks it's funny. I think I'm smiling too. I don't know for sure though. I can't feel anything right now. Or hear anything.

Mary turns back to the crowd and talks into the microphone again. She pulls the blue lever. Everyone is looking at the screens. I do too.

The name appears. Everyone reads it. I do too.

"Flynn Garrison."

A boy is pulled onto the stage by Peacekeepers just like I was.

He looks nervous and young.

We shake hands. His hands are sweaty or are mine? At least I think I'm feeling something.

The Peacekeepers pull me into the Justice Building. I've been in here once, when I was twelve and I signed up for tesserae to help feed my siblings. I wish I hadn't.

They separate me and the boy.

I'm pushed into a big room and the doors close shut. I think I can hear again. If I can then I hear the doors lock.

— —

I wait for the doors to open again.

Theres water on my face. I feel it now.

No.

It's not water.

Are they tears?

Yes.

Tears?

Yes definitely tears.

Tears aren't funny. These tears aren't funny.

Neither is dying. People die in the Hunger Games.

I'm going to die.


	4. Chapter IV

Tears are no longer streaming down my face and I think my brain is actually functioning. Albeit the only thing I can think about is my now imminent mortality.

I've had a lot of time to think, since the Peacekeepers locked me in this room. Between my hysteria and then actually calming down, I've lost track of time. Hours is what it feels like but for all I know it could've only been a few minutes. This room is filled with furniture but it doesn't have a clock. Three sofas but not a single clock. Fascinating.

There's a knock at the door and I look up excitedly. Were they letting me out? Wait. That would be bad news.

The door unlocks and opens. My father, Ma, and all the kids come bursting in. Before I can even stand they're all huddled around me. I'm happy to see them all. It makes saying goodbye much easier.

None of them say anything at first. Maybe it's now beginning to settle in for them, that my fate had been sealed. It's settled in for me.

"I tried —," My father begins to say, breaking the silence. "I begged them to remove your name."

"Remove my name from what?" I ask him, hearing the frustration in his voice. It isn't like my father to get flustered.

"The tesserae," He mutters. "I tried but the bastards wouldn't listen. If I could've got them to take away all the extra times your name was in it maybe —, maybe we wouldn't be here."

"Thanks for trying," is all I can say. At the very least it gives me clearance on why he went to the Justice Building last week.

Ma takes a seat next to me on the sofa, the puts one arm around me.

"You're going to be just fine," She whispers. I can hear the strain in her voice. "If I could, I would take your place. You're so young Robyn. But I know, I just know, you'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure," I say turning to her. The tears in her eyes tells me she's not so sure either.

"You'll do your best," She says. "Take this with you to remember what you'll be fighting for."

Ma hands me a silver necklace. It's familiar. Very familiar. It belongs to my mother. Every time I've seen her, she was wearing it. How'd Ma get this? The metal is cold and smooth. I fix my attention to the heart charm on it. I rub it and feel it release or open just like when my mother would do it. Inside it is a picture of the family. A very old one. The day it was taken feels like yesterday though. It's the day Violet was brought home from the hospital. She's a small baby and cradled in my mothers arms. A then three year old Grace is at my mothers side. I'm to the left of my mother, not smiling for the camera. I never liked to smile for those family pictures or even when it was picture day at school. The only real difference between me then and now is I'm taller and body is more developed. For three years I grew considerably but so has everyone else in the picture. My brothers have grown in height. Ma and my father have grown in age. I still don't smile in photos.

From outside the doors a Peacekeeper yells "two minutes" and it brings me back to the present. I close the locket and snap it around my neck. I'm sure I look even more like my mother now but I don't care. I had two minutes more with my family.

Had I really run out of time that quickly? I planned on saying goodbyes but now I can't think of anything to say. How do I explain that I was taking a one way trip to the Capitol to children?

"Robyn," Colton says suddenly, snapping me back once again to reality. "Are you going to be in the Hunger Games?"

His voice is so calm, almost lifeless.

"Yes," I answer, not knowing how he'd react.

"I think you'll be back," He utters, with no emotion like before.

"Where are you going?" Grace asks now. Her face is full of concern and fear. She already had an idea.

"I'm going away for a little while Grace," I say softly. She doesn't take it well. It's evident from the tears falling off her face.

"No, I don't want you to go anywhere!" She screams, forcefully hugging me.

I wrap my arms around her and embrace her. She's shaking.

"It's just for a little while," I try to explain.

"No! Mommy isn't here and you can't go too!"

She squeezes me tighter.

"Grace, I won't be gone for too long."

She looks up at me, eyes wide and puffy from crying. "Do you promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

I can feel her body relax a little, as she stops squeezing me and uses one hand to wipe her face.

"When I come back, I'll take you to the Square with me," I add on, hoping that she'd smile at this proposal. It works.

The Peacekeepers open the door. I'm out of time. Rushing to make sure no one is left out, I hug everyone one last time. I get teary reactions from Kayden, Nicnic, James, and Violet. Violet who doesn't understand why I'm leaving doesn't want to let me go. Which in turn almost brings me to tears but I refuse to cry anymore. Shedding anymore tears would be a waste, as well as do me no good. Instead I tell her that I have to go "feed my baby birds" and that I'd be back soon. Her response is iffy but it's enough for her to let me go.

"Alright times up!" A Peacekeeper yells. He begins to pull me out of the room. I look back at their faces one last time. I'm sure I have so much more to say but I can't think of anything. The situation has left me speechless. Hopefully the hugs and kisses were enough.

The doors close and I'm separated from them, for what could be, forever.

I'm escorted out of the Justice Building and taken outside to an empty field. The other tribute is already here and so is Mary, who looks absolutely excited. I wish I could say the same for Flynn but he looks in worse condition then I was in.

After about ten minutes of standing aimlessly in the field. a Capitol airship arrives above us. The only times I have seen them is on Reaping days. They would always be flying in the air right after. Taking another two young citizens from our District to the Capitol to eventually die. Now I would possibly be one of them.

The Peacekeepers pull us back making sure we aren't accidentally crushed before the games, as the large metal flying machine descends to the ground. In seconds after it lands we're taken aboard. They show us where we would sleep, where we would eat, and where we could "entertain ourselves." Other than these places we were not allowed anyplace else on the ship. They even don't fail to mention that all crimes conducted on the ship will have the same punishments they would in District Ten. Essentially saying even though we'd be thirty thousand feet in the air we could still be beaten if we break the rules.

They leave us in the dining room of the ship and then go off someplace else.

We are to wait for our mentor I suppose. I only see him out the corner of my eye but even so, I can see Flynn fidgeting in his seat. Part of me wants to help him calm down or do something that would make him less jumpy. Part of me doesn't know what would.

"Welcome welcome," a somber looking man says, stepping into the room. His words trying to bring life into what feels like a well furnished graveyard; his expression not helping his cause. It's the one and only Humphrey Sven, a victor of the Hunger Games, and now our mentor.

I know only a little about Humphrey as far as the games. He was eighteen when he won his games. It was the eighty second or eighty third. He's seen rarely around District Ten and mostly keeps himself locked up in his big house in Victor's Village, which is far east of the Square. It's closest to the border and probably very lonely. He's the only one living there. Rumors on Humphrey are just that, rumors, could be true or false. Some of them I hear are positive, some negative. At one time he's secretly giving money to the poorer folks in our District, in some sort of Robin Hood fashion I suppose, which is strictly forbidden by the Capitol. Other times he's taking in stray women, which may sound positive, but trust me, it definitely is far from.

Looking at the Humphrey Sven in front of me, with slick back black hair, a trimmed beard and a very slim black suit, I'm not entirely sure which one he is. Hopefully not the negative one.

"My name is Humphrey Sven, your mentor, but you can call me Rey if you like."

Humphrey exchanges courteous looks to Flynn and I. It takes me a moment to realize he wants an introduction from us in return. Flynn is quicker to understand.

"My name is Flynn, Flynn Garrison, nice to meet you." Flynn shakes his hand, then puts it back to his side. He's still nervous but he's hiding it a little better. At the very least it's not showing in his voice. It's my turn to introduce myself.

"I'm Robyn Albourne," I say and take his hand. I pretend not to mind when he kisses the top of it.

"Albourne you say?" Humphrey is looking at me with a sort of curiosity in his eye. I'm sure we've never met but he looks at me like we have somehow. I retract my hand uncomfortably and make a mental note to scrub that particular spot later. He recovers. "Vey nice to meet you Robyn."

"Wish I could say the same." It's edgy, potentially offensive, but I say it anyway because it's the truth. Humphrey smiles uneasily. Maybe he'd received the message and never kiss my hand again.

"Now that the introductions are out of the way, why don't we get down to business ah?"

This enthusiasm that Humphrey is trying to bring isn't really working on my half. He's already creeped me out. Flynn isn't frowning anymore but instead looks confused. I guess it's better than lingering on sadness. Mary looks unconcerned but watches Humphrey like he's a madman. When he takes a seat next to her, she slides over. Maybe all females got this unnatural feeling around him. The darker rumors are looking truer by the minute.

After a straight hour or more of talking, mostly between Humphrey and Flynn, I excuse myself from the table and search desperately for the room that I was told was "mine" earlier. The discussion was mostly Humphrey explaining all the different things that we would see in the Capitol when we get there. It's boring and, along with the motion of the aircraft, was giving me headache. I wish I had left forty-five minutes earlier when Mary did.

When I find my room, or stumble upon it really, I'm surprised to find my name on a plaque on the door. How quickly could they have made this? Inside is even more remarkable. The word that best fits the design of the room is "plush." They've definitely tried to use themes from District Ten based on the all way too corny, almost retro looking, cow skin bedding but because everything is so comfortable I don't mind.

It's a few minutes later when I discover ALICE, which is a voice operated system that, when I press a button to talk to her, will send me almost anything I request. So when I ask ALICE for an aspirin tablet and it's dispensed from a tube nearby, I ask her again for two more to deal with the new headache that trying to figure out how all of this was possible brings.

I down one aspirin with a bottle of water then lay on the bed. It's bigger than the one I'm used to back in District Ten and much softer. All of my siblings would easily fit on this one, with space to still thrash like they tend to do at night.

It feels empty without them. I wonder how they're doing. It hasn't been more than a few hours since I left but it feels longer. They should be home, hopefully keeping themselves busy. I desperately don't want them to worry about me, even though I'm worried about them. I know it's way too early to be thinking about those crueler what if's but they remain in my thoughts. Every few seconds I remind myself to relax, because if I don't these gloomy scenarios that are forming will eat away at me until I'm hollow right through my heart. Right now my family needs me to be strong, even if I'm not sure I can be. If anything I would have to try for Grace. I made her a promise to take her to the Square, which meant returning from the games. If I fail at keeping the promise I want to die knowing I at least tried. Anything less would be unfair to her and everyone for that matter.

The second and third aspirin pills are gone before night fall. I'm not feeling much of the motion sickness I was before. Actually, I'm not feeling much of anything after downing that third aspirin. I decide it's not safe to take another one for a day or two. The effects, perhaps, are too strong.

Instead of letting my mind wander into the black, scary, crevices of my mind, I just watch aimlessly out of the small airtight window that's in the room from bed. Watch the clouds past by and watch the colors of the room change as the sun goes down. It manages to take my mind of things even though I might be going brain dead. I can't be sure. The aspirin didn't come with any warnings. All I know is I like this feeling a little better than the sadness and unrest.

Sometime in the middle of the night I get up and change into night clothes that I find in a closet. For a very brief second I think of just sleeping nude with how soft the bedding is but then the image of Humphrey Sven kissing my hand wipes that thought away. I put the my dress on a hanger and place it in the closet, then close it. Truly, it's out of place with the eccentric Capitol clothes that are packed in there but I'm too lazy to find another place for it. Sleeping has proven to be an excellent relaxant and I want to continue doing it.

Before I've fully dosed off again, ALICE unexpectedly interrupts what _was_ a previously calming silence, to tell me that I'd be arriving in the Capitol within the next four hours.

Great. So much for falling asleep again I suppose. Restless night it is.


End file.
